


Revelation

by notthatone



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M, Pure Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 12:51:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17683805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthatone/pseuds/notthatone





	Revelation

**Revelation**

 

“You do know he is a complete douche, right?”  Sersh’s harsh comment was in his ear, though barely audible above the din of noise inside the club.

 

Timothée shrugged noncommittally and continued sucking his Vodka cranberry, gnawing on the small, brown plastic straw between sips.

 

A disgusted sigh was Sersh’s only response as she stood up from the leatherette bench where they sat, backs against the wall.  

 

It was  _ their spot.  _ Same as they had done nearly every Friday night since Timmy had established this weekly karaoke get-together.  Sersh knew why, everyone in their little group did, and his reason was a favorite topic of conversation, whether Timothée was around to hear it or not.  It was the worst kept secret on campus, but even their continued discouragement and good intentions weren’t enough to get Timothée to see the truth about Armie.

 

“So, do you sing?”  one of those good intentions asked, leaning into Timmy’s space to be heard.

 

How pathetic was it, to be set up on a blind date?  Clearly not as pathetic as it was to accept  _ and _ meet up at a place where you could ogle the one that you had been in love with for as long as you could remember, but clearly had not a snowball’s chance in hell of ever having love you in return.

 

Yes.  Timothée was King of Loserville because the heart wanted what it wanted.  And, his pathetic heart had only ever wanted Armie.

 

He smiled at the guy sitting next to him, Sersh’s attractive and, obviously interested, co-worker from the law firm where she worked as a paralegal.  He was an intern there while finishing up a law degree at the local university Timothée also attended. He was perfect on paper, Timothée had to wonder why the hell he ever needed to agree to a blind date.

 

“No one wants to hear that,”  Timothée answered lightly, sitting up a little straighter when he saw Armie out of the corner of his eye, standing at the bar.   

 

Friday night karaoke was when Armie showed up.  Ever the  _ future rock star _ and perpetually broke, Friday’s were payday for Armie. $200 bucks was the prize and all the booze he could drink was an offer Armie couldn’t afford to pass up.

 

“Oh, look, it’s Prince Charming,”  Sersh announced, annyance curling around every syllable of her lilting Irish accent as she placed a fresh drink in front of Timothée.  “Next round’s on you,” the reminder came with a tight-lipped smile as she plopped down into the seat beside him again.

 

The brows on Timothée’s date furrowed as he followed Timothée’s gaze to the bar.

 

Leaning on an elbow, beer bottle in hand, Armie’s head was bent toward a petite little red-head with way too much skin showing.  Armie was in his element, dramatic and boisterous as he tossed his head back with a throaty laugh that Timothée could still make out above all the noise in the club.  He gestured wildly with his arms, always seeming to talk with his entire body. Timothée could imagine the dreamy look the girl would have on her face as Armie talked her up.  He was so skilled at making you think you were the center of his universe while simply making conversation.

 

Timothée had been enthralled with that ability for years…and had been on the receiving end of Armie’s undivided attention enough to know how addictive it could be.  Timothée briefly felt sorry for the girl at the bar, but shut it down when he saw Armie lean in to whisper in her ear.

 

The straw in his drink ground between his teeth.

 

“Pathetic,”  Sersh moaned, shaking her head in frustration. She’d never understood Tim’s fascination.

 

Timothée  had been in love with Armie for as long as he could remember.  They had grown up neighbors, side by side, since Kindergarten, when Armie’s parents divorced and he and his mom had moved into the rental house next door to Timothée and his family.

 

They had always been as different as night and day.  Timothée was small, waifish, good in school and scared of his own shadow, while Armie was brash, loud and always big for his age and never caring about anything but having a good time. They were two sides of the same coin.  Complete opposites.

 

They knew each other better than anyone, best friends from the moment they had met, and Armie hadn’t batted an eye when Timothée had confessed he was gay during their Freshman year in high school.  Inseparable as they were, Armie wasn’t as dumb as he looked and over the years they’d grown up together, he’d taken notice of the fleeting glances from Timothée when he slept over and never commented on Timothée’s lack of interest in girls at school. So when Tim got to the point where he couldn’t hide it anymore, the confession to Armie in the fact that Timothée was gay was never an issue between the two friends.

 

Both boys had grown to accept what was and what couldn’t be…though for Timothée, that proved harder and harder to do.

 

But as the years went on, it also grew easy for Armie to take advantage of Timothée’s affection.  Armie hadn’t had an easy life. With a struggling mother who was never home, frequent would-be step-fathers in and out of his life, the constant instability had left him jaded.

 

While Timothée attended college, Armie drank, sponging off whatever friend  happened to be closest, forever aimless and drunk…or worse, and more often than not, he ended up on Timothée’s doorstep when all other options hadn’t panned out.

 

If Timothée let himself think about it, he could be bitter, being Armie’s last resort, but he tried to ignore those ugly thoughts, always forever dreaming that Armie would one day realize that there could be more between them than just friendship; that there was a reason he always ended up at Timothée’s door.

 

Oh, you couldn’t get much more pathetic than that.

 

“Why don’t we give it a go?”  Timothée’s  _ date _ , for lack of a better term, suggested with a smile.

 

“Singing?”  Timothée asked, the high-pitch of his voice doing nothing to mask the incredulousness of the suggestion. He immediately reached for his drink, taking a sip that was too big by anyone’s standards. He sputtered.

 

“Who’s singing?” Armie interjected as he practically poured himself into the seat opposite Tim, the girl from the bar perching beside him, eyes darting from one person to the next.

 

Timothée was glad it was so loud in the club, so no one could hear the ice rattling in his glass.

 

“I’m hoping I can talk Timothée into a duet,”  his date boldly answered and Tim would swear the floor was opening up beneath him.

 

“Oh?  That so?”  Armie smirked, one brow pulled high on his forehead before locking eyes with Timothée as he threw his arm across the back of the seat, allowing  _ little red haired girl _ to sidle in close to him.

 

Timmy hid a flinch behind the rim of his glass.

 

“It’s not unheard of, it  _ is _ karaoke after all. Or am I missing something here?”  Timothée’s date nudged him gently in the arm, looking at Tim before looking back at Armie. He extended his hand in Armie’s direction.  “I’m Luke, by the way.” 

 

Tim swallowed, his tongue sticking to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth.

 

The corner of Armie’s lip twitched as he leaned forward to grasp Luke’s hand.  “Armand Hammer,” he offered tersely before settling back into his seat. Giving his full name was always a dead giveaway that Armie didn’t like you. His chin lifted in Timmy’s direction. “Just FYI but our Timothée, here, doesn’t sing.”

 

Timothée felt like he had swallowed glass hearing Armie pointedly correctly pronouncing Timothées.  It felt like a dig and Timothée had no idea where it came from.

 

“I sing,” he quickly felt the need to announce, watching Armie swallow long pulls from his beer bottle while signaling the passing waitress for another.

 

Armie’s laugh was bitter this time.  “I’ve never heard you sing.”

 

“Just because you haven’t experienced it, doesn’t mean it isn’t true,”  Timothée hoped his answer sounded as cryptic as it did in his head.

 

The color in Armie’s face rose, and Timothée wanted for all the world to take a sick kind of satisfaction in that, but knew it was probably more the alcohol’s doing than anything Timothée might ever say to him.

 

“It’s settled then,”  Luke announced, taking the drink from Timothée and setting it aside before he then clasped it in his own gently and standing, pulling Timothée to his feet.

 

“Break a leg,  _ boys _ ,” Armie called out to them as they made their way to the karaoke stage.

 

Timothée couldn’t help but enjoy himself.  Luke was light-hearted and funny and made him feel special with nothing more than a warm smile.  But, it was hard to maintain with Armie getting more and more drunk and belligerent as the night wore on.  And, Timothée grew more and more embarrassed with each verbal jab.

 

When Armie took the stage to sing “I’m Too Sexy” and dedicated it to Luke, Timothée was seething.

 

“And, that’s my cue to leave,” Luke announced, as he slipped his arms into his suit coat.

 

“I am so sorry,”  Timothée offered in apology, not knowing why or what had brought out the meanness in Armie tonight.

 

“Hey, it’s not your fault,”  Luke didn’t sound too sure, reaching into his coat pocket for a set of keys.  “I still had a really nice time.”

 

“Oh…you did?”  Timothée was truly shocked.

 

Luke laughed.  “I did, and…I’d really like to do it again sometime, but maybe more just the two of us? If you wanted?”

 

Wow…a second date?  Even after this fiasco?

 

“Yes, definitely, I would like that, too.”  Timothée answered honestly surprised that the idea did sound nice. He smiled, Luke smiling back from a very  handsome face.

 

“Great.  I’ll give you a call tomorrow?”

 

“Yes.”  Timothée nodded.  “Yes, do.”

 

Luke smiled broadly and before Timothée knew what was happening, was pressing his lips lightly to Timothée’s.  It was a small, warm brushing of lips, that was over far too quickly to register as anything but chaste.

 

“It was nice to meet you, Timothée, and I will talk to you tomorrow.”

 

Timothée nodded, watching him as he left the club, catching a glimpse of Armie watching him leave, too, something flashing across his face that Timothée couldn’t decipher.

 

@-->\--

 

The bed shifted and a warm body pressed up against Timothée’s back, skin to skin,  an arm wrapping around his chest to pull him in even closer. Timothée sighed, he loved this dream.

 

“You liked him, didn’t you?”

 

Timothée jumped, the low voice at his ear not a dream.

 

“Armie?  What the hell are you doing?” He tried to pull away, but Armie held him firm and still where he was.

 

“Tell me…did you like him?”  His voice was rough from the lateness of the hour and way too much alcohol.

 

“Like who?  What are you talking about?”

 

Timothée looked at the clock by his bed, 4:19…no wonder he couldn’t make sense of what was going on.  If he wasn’t still half asleep he might have been worried that Armie had managed to get into his place without waking him.

 

Wait…what?  How did he…

 

Armie’s hand spread wide across Timothée’s chest.  “Mr. Perfect tonight, at the club…”

 

Timothée groaned. “Are you kidding me.  It was a blind date, Armie…”

 

“You kissed him,” he whispered, his mouth hovering at Timothée’s ear, causing him to shiver.

 

“Yeah?  You kissed that chick, what’s the big deal?”  Timothée tried to ignore the gentle, light movements of Armie’s fingers on his chest.

 

“I didn’t want to kiss that chick…” his answer seemed more a thought he let slip out.

 

Timothée’s mind was spinning and it pissed him off.  Typical Armie, drunk and doing whatever the hell he felt like.

 

“So why did you?  Why _ do _ you?”  Timothée angrily pulled away from Armie, sitting up in the bed beside him.

 

With a heavy sigh, Armie rolled to his back.  “Because…”

 

“Jesus!  You sound just like you did when we were five. Because, because, because…because  _ WHY _ ?”  Timothée yelled in frustration. The neighbors could suck it up.

 

But, as usual, his only answer was silence.

 

“Right.  That’s it,”  Timothée shoved his hands through his hair, throwing back the cover and standing up.  “I can’t do this anymore, Armie…” He reached to turn on the bedside lamp, wanting to find his clothes and throw Armie out once and for all...

 

“Whatever you do,”  Armie’s voice was small, strained.  “Don’t turn the light on. Please.”

 

That was a first.  Armie never begged, for anything, and the sound of it made Timothée freeze where he stood, nothing could have made him turn a light on now as the moment hung, suspended.

 

“What’s going on, Armie?”  Timothée asked quietly, like he was talking to a wild animal, scared to send him bolting.

 

Timothée could make out the silhouette of Armie lying there, the light of the hallway bathroom enough to let Timothée see him lying there, staring at the ceiling.

 

“If you turn on the light you’ll see me,”  he continued looking up, but his hand fisted in the sheets where Timothée had been lying.

 

“So?”

 

“So, I don’t want to be me…”

 

“Why? What does that-?  Armie, what the fuck is going on?”  Timothée was so frustrated he wanted to scream.

 

“Don’t you _ get it _ ?”  Armie roared, sitting up in a rush.  “I want to be him! I want to be  _ that _ guy you want…the one that kisses you and sings with you and should have been in this bed  _ with you _ if he was half as smart as he looked. God, what an idiot”

 

Timothée reeled, Armie’s voice too loud, stumbling out of the room before Armie could say another word.

 

He couldn’t handle it; couldn’t handle hearing the feelings mocked that Timothée had dreamed of Armie reciprocating since they were kids.  Armie knew how Timothée felt, he had always known because Timothée had never made it a secret…no matter how much it had hurt.

 

How could Armie be that cruel?

 

_ Fucking drunk bastard. _

 

He sat on the sofa in the dark, his head hanging from his shoulders, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor beneath his feet.

 

“Get out,”  his voice was barely above a whisper, beyond desolate when he heard Armie step into the room.  Timothée refused to look up, he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Armie dressed, heading out the door.

 

He wouldn’t look at him because he knew it would be for the last time, and as much as he hated Armie’s insensitivity at this moment, the thought of watching him walk out...

 

“Timothée…”

 

Timothée braced his hands on his knees, gripping tightly, his fingers digging into bare skin.  He shook his head. “Don’t say anything. Just go.”

 

Gritting his teeth, Timothée struggled to hold himself together as he waited for the sound of the door closing, but there was nothing but silence.

 

“Would you just listen to me?” 

 

“Why?”  Timothée snapped, lifting his head just as sharply as his question sliced through the air.

 

Big mistake.  Why, did he look up?  He knew he had no defenses when it came to Armie.  None. And, seeing him standing there in the doorway, the light spilling from the open bathroom door behind him, highlighting the broad width of his bare shoulders, the lean line that led to his waist, and the strong thighs that were now encased in faded denim of the jeans he had, mercifully, put on, seemed like a dream and a nightmare…everything he wanted but could never have.

 

Armie’s face was shadowed, but Timothée could feel his eyes staring back at him. 

 

“Why, Armie?  Why should I listen to you?”

 

Armie shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Because you love me.”

 

The darkness of the room was flooded with red as the anger rose in Timothée.  “If you don’t get the fuck out now, I’m…”

 

“I’m not leaving.”  Armie took a step into the room but Timothée lunged before he could take another, barreling like a freight train into Armie’s mid-section, sending them both crashing to the floor.

 

It wasn’t a fair fight, the only reason they wrestled now was that Timothée had taken Armie by surprise, and quickly and as gently as he could, Armie had Timothée, face first, pinned to the floor.

 

With both of them breathing heavily from the strain and the emotion, Armie felt the tension ease in Timothée’s body beneath him.  But this gave way to an entirely different sensation.

 

Timothée shivered, resting his forehead on the cold floor.  He should still be fighting, shoving, kicking, trying anyway he could to get Armie off of him; away from him, but he just didn’t have the energy.

 

Armie took a deep breath, his body on the verge of some unknown brink…his feelings, his wants a new and frightening aspect that he wasn’t sure he understood.

 

What he did understand was that Timothée was warm, his back smooth and sleek beneath his chest, his legs powerful and intoxicating entwined with his own.

 

What he did understand was that Timothée had loved him always…no matter what Armie had done, no matter how many times he had fucked up…Timothée had always been there, loving him.

 

With a shudder, Armie moved, his fingers cupping the back of Timothée’s head, touching and feeling, for the first time, Timothée’s surprisingly soft hair.  He felt Timothée shudder in response as he placed his lips on his back, not really a kiss, but…something more.

 

Timothée shook his head.  “Armie, please…” He whispered, but stopped.

 

_ Please, what? _  What was he begging for?   _ Please, don’t stop…don’t kiss me…don’t break my heart? _

 

Armie’s fingers tightened on his scalp, stopping Timothée from saying anything else as he moved to Timothée’s ear.

 

“I’m going to ask you to do something I have never asked you to do before.”  Armie whispered, his lips brushing the outer shell of Timothée’s ear. His mind reeling, he closed his eyes, shivering, waiting for Armie to continue.  “ _ Promise _ me, you’ll say yes.”

 

Armie tenderly kissed that spot just below Timothée’s ear and Timothée swallowed hard, answering before he had time to think.

 

“Promise…”

 

Armie sighed his relief, hearing Timothée’s promise.  No matter how mad he may be at Armie, he would keep his word.  Armie just needed time…to explain…to figure out what was going on in his own head.

 

Earlier at the club, watching Timothée with his  _ date _ , something had clicked inside of Armie, and had simmered all night long.   But, when he had watched as Timothée and the guy kissed goodnight, the ‘something’ had become blinding in its intensity and had caught Armie completely off-guard.

 

Thank God the guy hadn’t been in Timothée’s bed when Armie had snuck in...He wasn’t sure what would have happened, but he was more than certain Timothée wouldn’t be willing to hear him out now if he had been.

 

Though he had Timothée’s promise, he still didn’t want to give him any wiggle room, literally or figuratively.  So, Armie, slowly slid to the side, keeping their bodies in close contact as he moved to lie facing Timothée on the floor.  His leg still rested across Timothée’s hip, his arm wrapped around Timothée’s middle, Armie rested his head on the other and searched Timothée’s face in the dim light.

 

“Well?”  Timothée finally asked, his brows drawn tight, his face unreadable.  It was the first time Armie had ever seen that in Timothée; shielding his thoughts for the first time since they had known each other.  It made Armie uncomfortable and more than a little wary, and that was definitely a feeling he wasn’t used to.

 

Timothée was stiff, his body rigid and unyielding.  Armie felt his frustration rising…why couldn’t Timothée  _ see _ what Armie was trying to say, without making him have to spill it all out between them?

 

Armie sighed and Timothée moved to get up, but Armie held tight, his hand spread against Timothée’s back, his leg holding tighter around his hip.

 

“You have my  _ promise _ , Armie, just say what you want to say.  It’s damned uncomfortable here on the floor.”

 

Timothée’s frustration was tangible and Armie knew his reluctance to now speak was only making matters worse, so he took a deep breath.  “Can I stay with you tonight?”

 

That did it.  Before Armie could react, Timothée had jumped to his feet with a disgusted groan.

 

“You are a piece of work,”  Timothée bit off as he stormed off down the hall.  “Are you high tonight? Is that it? Drinking’s not enough anymore?”

 

Armie sat up, hugging his knees tightly to his chest as he listened to Timothée rifling through the cupboard and continuing to berate him…and he deserved every word Timothée threw at him.

 

“What the fuck is going on with you?  I don’t understand all…this…tonight? The theatrics.   Why, Armie?” Timothée came back in the room with an armload of blankets and a pillow he threw in the general direction of the sofa.  “You don’t have to act like you want to sleep with me, you know. Have I ever turned you away from my door? When have I  _ ever  _ not been there for …”

 

“You  _ have  _ always been there for me,”  Armie interjected quietly, his chin resting on his knee as he stared at the floor at Timothée’s feet.  “ _ Always…” _

 

“Yeah, trust me, I am aware of how much of a doormat I am when it comes to you,”  Armie closed his eyes against the acid of Timothée’s words. 

 

He was totally aware of the corner he had painted himself into, whatever Armie said now Timothée would automatically have his defenses up against.  Hell, Armie couldn’t blame him. He had taken advantage of Timothée’s feelings over and over in the past and hadn’t ever given it a second thought. Yes, he was paying for that dearly now, as he looked up from where he sat on the floor to the dejected and rightfully pissed off Timothée standing on the other side of the room.

 

“I don’t think you’re a doormat.”

 

Timothée barked a bitter laugh.  “Thanks, but we both know I am when it comes to you.”  

 

Timothée shoved his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture.  “It’s late, I’m tired and I’m going to bed. Everything you need is there,”  he motioned with a quick nod of his head at the sofa and the pile of bedding he had pulled out for Armie to use. 

 

With nothing else to say, Timothée turned and headed back down the hall to his bedroom, as he passed Armie reached out and took his hand. 

 

Swallowing the fist-sized lump that was threatening to choke him, Armie held tight to Timothée’s hand, staring intensely where their fingers entwined.  It hurt that Timothée refused to look at him, but there was no going back now…not for either of them.

 

“Not everything I need is there,”  Armie informed Timothée, finally rising up off the floor, still clasping his hand tightly in his own.  “You’re not there,” Armie whispered, lifting Timothée’s hand to his lips, pressing them gently to the smooth skin on the back of Timothée’s hand, letting them linger as he felt Timothée tremble.

 

“Armie, don’t…”  He meekly tried to pull his hand away, but Armie held firm, letting his lips and breath skim each knuckle.

 

“I want to stay with  _ you _ tonight, not on your couch…I want to  _ be _ with you tonight, Timothée, in your bed.”

 

Armie felt Timothée freeze solid in place, heard the sharp breath he took and held.  Armie lifted his eyes to look at Timothée and was crushed by the frightened, wide-eyed shock that marked his best friends face.   His heart cracked wide open and he cursed himself with everything he had that he had put that look on Timothée’s face.

 

“I don’t understand,” Timothée managed to whisper and it caused another ripple of pain to tear through Armie.

 

“I know,” Armie quietly admitted, ignoring the involuntary flinch Timothée gave as Armie lifted his free hand to gently cup Timothée’s cheek.  “We need to talk…about so many things, but…later, ok? Just for tonight, pretend I am the man you deserve…”

 

With that, Armie claimed Timothée’s mouth and after only a brief moment of hesitation, Timothée returned the kiss, sinking into it, sinking into Armie and the warm solidness of his embrace.  Armie left Timothée unable to think, to hesitate as they somehow found their way down the hall, tumbling into Timothée’s bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

 

They were naked within minutes, mouths trailing hot kisses over smooth, tight skin; teeth biting into firm muscle; hands kneading and stroking steely hardness; the sounds of lust and burgeoning love fueling their need.

 

Armie held nothing back, the time he had denied that he had felt anything for Timothée roared out of him.  His body covered Timothée’s, his mouth devouring Timothée’s neck as Timothée groaned and writhed beneath him, arching for greater reach and to allow Armie all he wanted at his throat.

 

Their bodies were fused, sweat forming on the skin trapped between them.

 

“God, Timmy” Armie panted heavily in Timothée’s ear as Timothée dug his fingers deeper into Armie’s ass, grinding their pelvises together.  “I want you…”

 

Timothée groaned and shuddered hearing those words, knowing it wasn’t a dream or fantasy, but true and real and…now.

 

“I want you, too,”  Timothée whispered into Armie’s hair.  “Do it. Just go…slow.”

 

Armie raised his head from Timothée’s throat.  “Are you sure? We don’t have to do that…”

 

Timothée smiled, wiping the damp tendrils of Armie’s hair back from his forehead.  “I want it.”

 

Armie’s face burned with high color as he smiled down at Timothée before kissing him long and slow and deep.  “Just tell me if I do it wrong…”

 

Timothée couldn’t help but laugh, more than a little shyly.  “I’m the last person you should ask, probably.”

 

Armie lifted himself up on his elbows, looking down at Timothée.  “What do you mean?”

 

“If I tell you the truth…”  He trailed off, letting his eyes drift to a point beyond Armie’s left shoulder.

 

“Hey, you,”  Armie soothed, tipping Timothée’s chin with a finger, so that he could see his eyes.  “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

 

Timothée visibly swallowed, his throat working nervously before he spoke.  “I’ve never…I didn’t…”

 

Armie took a deep breath, his heart swelling with a combination of love and awe.  “Because of me?”

 

Timothée only shrugged, his eyes refusing to meet Armie’s now.  “I just never wanted anyone enough to let them…”

 

“But, you want me enough?”

 

Timothée closed his eyes and stifled a groan.  “Is this turning into an ego trip for you?”

 

“No!”  Armie insisted, vehement in his denial.  He kissed Timothée roughly until he felt the other start to respond again.  “Never. I am…amazed. I am touched and…humbled, Timothée. It’s you, it’s always been you and I’m sorry,” Armie stopped, swallowing the wave of emotion overcoming him. “I don’t deserve you…I never have.”

 

Timothée leaned up, kissing the soft spot just beneath Armie’s chin.  “But, that’s where you’re wrong…”

  
  
  



End file.
